Demon Child
by Seishuku Arashi-012
Summary: Serenity Riddle has come to Hogwarts, but is her past ready to let her go?
1. Default Chapter

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Demon Child

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon or Harry Potter. 

This idea has been traipsing through my mind for some time now. I know the whole 'Usagi is Voldie's kid' thing is been used a lot, but I'm trying to make this different. I hope that what I type resembles what I had planned out....

The 'Dream Team' is in their 6th year.

//- Sorting hat

""-talking

''- thoughts.

()~()~()~()~()

"Let the sorting begin!" Dumbledore, the gray haired Headmaster of the most prestigious school in the wizarding world, took his seat at the front of the hall. Minerva McGonagall brought out the familiar stool and pointed hat.

Most of the older students were already bored with the ceremony, but some turned to stare at the new students arriving. They saw the usual line of terrified eleven-year-olds. Then they caught sight of the taller, cloaked figure at the back of the line. All of those watching pointed her out to those who weren't paying attention. All eyes in the hall were glued to that mysterious person. 

"Ariss, Eileen." The first name was called, and the Hufflepuffs clapped mechanically as she was sorted to their house. 

Quite a few more names had been called, but the person at the end of the line hadn't stepped forward yet. 

"Riddle, Serenity." All whispers in the hall stopped much like when Harry Potter's legendary name had been called. Everyone present in that dining hall, aptly named 'Great', knew of only one other person that had that surname. 

Thousands of eyes followed the cloaked stranger to the front of the room.

"You will have to remove the hood of your cloak, Miss Riddle." McGonagall frowned down at the girl. The professor already knew that she wouldn't like this girl. She wasn't told the girl's story, only Dumbledore knew about her past, and he refused to divulge any of her secrets. 

A soft sigh was heard throughout the room and a pale, slim hand reached out from the depths of the black material. The hood of the cloak fell back, and the entire student population simultaneously gasped. A jagged scar running from her forehead, over her eye, to her chin ruined what would have been a gorgeous face.

Her hair was a pure silver, and emotionless wine red eyes stared out at the shocked faces. 

Serenity looked up at the unnerved transfiguration professor and raised an eyebrow. 

"Well? What are you waiting for? Sit down, girl."

Serenity gracefully lowered herself onto the three-legged stool, still looking out at everyone.

She didn't even blink as the hat slid onto her head. 

//What do we have here? Voldemort's child? Your place is easy to find, you should be in Slytherin, Demon Child.// "SLYTHERIN."

The silver haired girl ripped the tattered old hat off her head and tossed it on the ground before her. 

"If you _ever _mention that name to _anyone_, I will shove you in a fireplace and watch you burn."

Shocked whispers flooded the hall. No one at the Slytherin table clapped, they were also talking about Voldemort's child. Serenity stood and walked through the Hall, feeling everyone's eyes boring into her. They all leaned away from her as she passed them by. Despite their actions, she didn't flinch, she just lifted her vacant eyes, and walked slowly to her place at the Slytherin table. There was an empty seat at the end of the table closest to the professors, and Serenity sat there. When she did, there was a mad rush by all of Slytherin students to rush to the other side of the table. She looked at them all calmly, not appearing disappointed or annoyed in the least. 

A few more names were called, but everyone was still too preoccupied with the frail looking girl called 'Riddle'.

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A/N- Tell me if I should continue... I hope this makes sense eventually....


	2. 02

Demon Child  
Chapter Two  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon or Harry Potter.  
  
"I am in the temper that if I were underwater I would scarcely kick to come to the top."  
-John Keats.  
  
()~()~()~()~()  
  
The Sorting was finally over and all of the students were sleepily following the prefects to their dorms. Serenity was once again at the end of the line, her cloak hiding her scarred face. Those passing her made sure not to come close. They were still staring and talking about her, but their voices had risen above the quiet whispers they had previously been.  
  
When the password was spoken, and everyone headed into their dorms, the first years trailing behind the other like lost puppies. Serenity sat calmly before the blackened stone fireplace, and steadily observed her surroundings. Instead of the red flames she expected, a green-tinted fire danced within the hearth. The soft chairs were green velvet with silver silk lining, and the couches appeared well worn.  
  
Staring down at the unnatural flames, her thoughts wandered back to a time before she had even dreamed of a heaven on earth called Hogwarts..  
  
***Flashback***  
  
"What's wrong with you, girl? Are you just that idiotic? The spell isn't that challenging. Do it again." The tall, masked man was one of Father's Deatheaters. He had told this one to teach her magic instead of sending her to a school.  
  
She was only five, but she was taught the most painful torturing spells; the ones reserved for traitors. There was no point to try and convince any of those ruthless men and women that she was too young, too innocent for such things.  
  
"Inferno." The frail looking child pointed a wand toward a cowering house elf, knowing that she would have to hurt it to save herself, even if only for a little while.  
  
She flinched and turned her head away as the elf screamed. That spell burned you alive; it starts with your internal organs, and the 'fire' slowly eats its way outward until there is nothing left but a pile of ashes.  
  
The Deatheater grabbed her head and forced her to watch what was happening to the defenseless elf.  
  
"You cannot be weak, girl. You are useless enough to my master as it is. You must watch. This is what will happen to you if you displease Lord Voldemort."  
  
()~()~()~()~()~()  
  
The chiming of a clock in the corner of the room pulled Serenity from her reverie; it was already midnight. She shook her head to clear it, only to stumble back into her memories.  
  
()~()~()~()~()  
  
She was seven now, and today was a very special day. The silver haired child was smiling, but the happiness didn't reach her wine red eyes. Today was her birthday, and she had received word that her father was going to send her away to get more of an education. Serenity could hold her own in a magical duel even against some of the older Deatheaters, but she was still weak physically. She was going to be taught to use weapons to her advantage.  
  
"Come, girl." A Deatheater appeared in the doorway to her small, gray room. The corners were full of dust, and a moth-eaten old pallet was the only furniture in sight.  
  
Serenity stood from her place on the ground, and lifted a tiny bag that was nowhere nearly full. It contained only her few, ragged clothes; she had never been given any toys. She followed the man out into an empty corridor. He led her up a flight of stairs, and then through a cleaner, more used hall. He pushed open the wooden double doors before them, and turning his head to make sure she was still behind him, he entered the crowded chamber. Her footsteps echoed in the shocking silence.  
  
What seemed like hundreds of masked Deatheaters turned to stare down at Serenity. She walked with her head down, counting her steps, doing anything to keep her mind away from where she was.  
  
It felt like years had passed before she reached the front of the room. She was aware of the man beside her bowing and saying softly, "My Lord."  
  
"Rise, Snape." The Dark Lord gestured with one pale, slim hand. Snape rose from his place at her side to stand with the rest of the crowd. Serenity dared to glance upward at her father. He was the only one not wearing the plain white mask that the others were ordered to don whenever they were called to his presence. The tall, black haired man sitting upon a raised platform, the greatest Dark Lord of all time was her father. He could have been mistaken for the immortal god of war, Ares, sitting above them, the weak mortals, atop a stone plateau. From the tales she had heard, the idea certainly wasn't laughable. Serenity knew that her mother was dead, but no one liked to talk about it. She learned that early, so she never asked anymore.  
  
"Girl, have you been told why you are leaving?" The Dark Lord's rich, deep voice sent a shiver tumbling down her back.  
  
"Yes." Her voice was as shaky as her knees, and she was trying not to fall onto the floor in an ungraceful heap.  
  
"You will show me the respect I deserve!" His voice rose, and she imagined that she felt the floor tremble.  
  
"Yes, My Lord." She was struggling to hold back tears now; Serenity was beyond terrified. She felt queasy, and she hoped that she wouldn't make a fool of herself before her father's troops. That was the only thing that kept her on her feet. If she could only prove that she was worth something, then maybe she would be useful to her father.  
  
"That's better." His voice softened again. "You are being sent away to learn to fight."  
  
()~()~()~()~()~()~()  
  
A small girl, no more than eight, was battling with a much older man.and she was winning. Serenity's movements with a sword were graceful and sure. She could have beaten the Dark Lord himself! In a flash, she had the man pinned to the ground with a sword point at his neck.  
  
"You can do better. That was mediocre." The man shoved the sword away from his neck, and stood with ease.  
  
"I don't like swords though." The girl frowned down at the hunk of metal. "Don't complain!" Before she could move, her instructor's sharp sword slashed her face. "Complaining is a sign of being weak! Do you want Lord Voldemort to kill you? You are like a little lamb on its way to the slaughter. Do not be weak. Showing your emotions is being weak. Do not let your opponent know what you are thinking."  
  
He walked out of the room, not giving his bleeding pupil a second look. 


	3. 03

Greetings, all. Sorry I haven't updated in forever....  
  
Demon Child  
Chapter Three  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon or Harry Potter, or the song "Dream On," which is by Depeche Mode.  
  
Some time during the night, Serenity slipped into blissful unconsciousness. Unfortunately for her, her wake up call was not pleasant. She awoke to the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and two annoying loud, high-pitched female voices.  
  
"I don't understand why people believe this nonsense about the Dark Lord having an heir, especially a female one."  
  
"I totally agree. Besides, if she is his kid, why is she here? Spying on the Trio?"  
  
The two girls had reached the bottom of the stairs, and had yet to notice Serenity, even as she began to stand. For the first time, she spoke. "No, I am not here to spy on Harry Potter or his friends. I do not care to fight Father's battles for him, for he is quite capable of handling them himself. You would do well not to anger me, children."  
  
"Children? Surely you jest. Maybe whatever mutilated your face addled your wits." An unattractive girl that Serenity recognized as a Parkinson made a snotty retort.  
  
Serenity stared at them calmly, before brushing past them to walk up the stairway to the girl's dorms.  
  
As your bony fingers close around me, Long and spindly, Death becomes me. Heaven, can you see what I see?   
  
The sixth year dormitories were not very impressive to her, as she had lived in the Dark Lord's mansion, and despite only ever living in that small room just above the dungeons and torture chambers, she knew what 'impressive' was. Her trunk was at the foot of a bed near the door, and it looked as though someone had tried to break into it. "Tried" being the key word, as it was spelled to burn the hands of anyone besides Serenity who tried to open it.  
  
She changed into simple black robes, not caring about the poor quality. Money should not be wasted on such trivial things as clothing. She closed the trunk, not sparing a glance for the knives and swords and other assorted weapons stored inside.  
  
Hey, you pale and sickly child You're death and living reconciled, Been walking home a crooked mile.   
  
She had no trouble finding her way back to the Great Hall, and as she entered, all eyes turned toward her, and all conversations stopped. She walked with her head held high, but should would have really preferred to pull a hood down to her face. A space was once again cleared for her, as the Slytherins all scooted away.  
  
Paying debt to karma, You party for a living. What you take won't kill you, But careful what you're giving.   
  
She felt eyes boring into the back of her head as she took her seat. She turned, and saw the famous Golden Trio watching her warily. As she watched them watching her, a cruel smile found its way to her lips. Serenity wanted to laugh, for she could hear their thoughts from clear across the room. 'Why is Voldemort's child here? I'll bet she's here to spy on me. And what's the deal with that scar?' 'I'll bet she's here to hurt Harry. I'll keep an eye on her, and make sure she doesn't try anything.' 'Hnmm...I haven't heard anything about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named having a child. I'll consult the library!'  
  
She couldn't help but realize how childish they really were. 'How unfortunate that the fate of the world rests in the hands of children. Father really should pick better opponents.' She turned back to her meal, deciding to ignore them for the time being.  
  
If the owls rushing to deliver the mail startled her, she did not show it. Several red letters landed by her plate, along with one seemingly innocent piece of folded parchment; she cut her breakfast short to wander into the corridor with her letters. She opened the first red envelope. She didn't cover her ears or flinch as the letter screamed obscenities at her, and soon, all of the red envelopes had been opened and listened to. Only the folded parchment was left. It was pulled open without ceremony, and, once read, tossed into a deep pocket to await further examination. According to that note, Father would be looking for her. What a joy.  
  
There's no time for hesitating, Pain is ready; pain is waiting, Primed to do its educating.   
  
Her first class on that dreary September morn was Potions, something she excelled at. Finding the classroom was no problem; she merely searched the mind of a nearby student, and then began her journey into the bowels of the castle. She found a seat on the last row, and had a table all to herself. Suddenly, she was transported back to a long ago birthday when she heard a somewhat familiar velvety voice.  
  
She whipped around in her seat, and saw the face of the man that had guided her to her father so very long ago.  
  
Unwanted, uninvited kin It creeps beneath your crawling skin It lives without; it lives within you.  
  
Feel the fever coming  
  
You're shaking and twitching You can scratch all over, But that won't stop you itching.   
  
She met his eyes, and knew that he remembered. Hello, again. She said in his mind. He started; apparently she had shocked him. Do you remember me? I remember you. She was waiting rather patiently for a response, when he replied, Later. And began his class, all the while trying to keep his eyes from straying towards her pale face.  
  
Can you feel a little love? Can you feel a little love?  
  
Dream on, Dream on...  
  
Blame it on your karmic curse Oh, shame upon the universe. It knows its lines; it's well rehearsed.  
  
It sucked you in; it dragged you down To where there is no hallowed ground, Where holiness is never found.  
  
Paying debt to karma You party for a living. What you take won't kill you, But careful what you're giving.  
  
Can you feel a little love? Can you feel a little love?  
  
Dream on, Dream on... 


End file.
